No rules, no limits, no jeans
THE best thing about the Grammy fashion parade is the anarchy that reigns. With no dress code in effect, the attendees Sunday at Madison Square Garden looked as if they had left home heading to different destinations.
There was Pink, on her way to a naughty girl’s prom in a crimson mohawk and tattered black lace, and Jamie Lynn Sigler, ready for a bat mitzvah party in a sequined pink mini-dress. Kylie Minogue, too, too glam in a Givenchy couture gown, would have looked more at home at an Emmy or Golden Globes ceremony. And Faith Hill, who unfortunately stood under the mousse tree too long, provided the evening’s viva Las Vegas moment. Did someone pick up the note to self that Hill dropped? It read: fire stylist.
At least a number of women -- and the reliable Harvey Fierstein -- pulled out all the stops. And Avril Lavigne and her band remembered that the essence of rock ‘n’ roll dressing is getting a parent to say, “You’re going out in that?” One could imagine the high-spirited group downing a case of Ripple, then hitting Wasteland, the Melrose Avenue vintage store.
By the way, what ever happened to blue jeans? The pants that have been the uniform of pop music’s stars and fans for the last 40 years were mostly missing in action at the Grammy Awards. Lou Reed did wear denim onstage, proving, perhaps, that some geezer rockers are sticklers for tradition. But Reed’s dungarees, as they call them in New York, were eclipsed by John Mayer in cargo pants, James Taylor in his father’s suit, and Sheryl Crow as a Julie Christie, circa 1968, wannabe. In a T-shirt, jeans and a potpourri of unusual accessories, Erykah Badu was one of the few performers who remembered the rock ‘n’ roll uniform.
Gwen Stefani of No Doubt, the female rocker with arguably the best and most original personal style, didn’t disappoint. A front-row regular at John Galliano’s shows in Paris, she performed in a black bandeau with Love stenciled on it, camouflage shorts, knee-high boots and enough metal accessories to keep her off an airplane. During the evening, she covered up in shaped, tailored jackets. From the neck up, she was Marilyn Monroe, with impeccable red goddess lips and platinum hair.
It would be easy to write off what passes for style at the Grammys as just show biz. Before Britney Spears and a few others bared all flesh from their ribs to their hipbones, who would have believed that every teenager in America would routinely expose her belly above ever-lower-cut hiphuggers? See it in a video or on the Grammys today, buy it at the mall in six months.
